


Another Opens

by sailaway



Series: My Yautja Boyfriend [9]
Category: Alien vs Predator (2004), Aliens vs Predators Series - Various Authors, Predators (2010), The Predator (2018)
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Sex, F/M, Rough Sex, Yautja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 02:57:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17931515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailaway/pseuds/sailaway
Summary: T'kicta cat-sits. Luar takes on a challenger. Both get laid.





	Another Opens

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended reading before this: _Dark Side of the Moon_ and _One Door Closes._ This takes place very shortly after _One Door Closes,_ if you couldn't guess from the title. You could probably enjoy this without reading those, though! Just some yautja boys getting rowdy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

T'kicta punched in the access code for his cousin's rooms and let out an gusty sigh of envy when he entered. Private space: a luxury, and one that must be earned.

Solar and Kate were away for two cycles and T'kicta cast his gaze about, seeking the creature she had asked him to care for. She had called it a “cat” (the clipped monosyllable sounded like a yautja word) and said it was named “Iyona” (an actual yautja word, though who ever heard of naming an animal after a cooking seasoning?) and from behind her Solar had asked him with his eyes to humor her. She was not hard to please, and so T'kicta had agreed to the favor. Besides, in exchange he was permitted to stay here in their absence, and he had many lofty plans for these rooms.

The animal was far smaller than he expected, its round eyes greenish and its short coat speckled black and orange. Ah, he understood the name now. T'kicta peered down at it with his head to one side. Truly, his cousin must be hopelessly infatuated with his _ooman_ to allow her to keep such a weak and banal pet!

The animal made a faint warbling squeak then, and came toward him, shaping its back into an arch and pushing against his greaves. Was it soliciting food? That's what he was here for, after all.

He opened one of the storage compartments to his left, where he'd been told there was a container of food. He deposited some of the dried meat into the provided dish, and knelt, and the creature ran to him and squeaked again and ate. He refilled a separate dish of water from the washroom, also as instructed, and observed the little Earth animal for a moment before setting his sights on the sleeping chamber. He felt sure his cousin would not mind his intentions so very much. He would have the furs cleaned after, and as Solar's sense of smell was rather mediocre, there would be no problems at all.

His throat felt raspy and tight and he cleared it, tugging at his neck piece. He hoped he was not growing ill. He would not allow that to disrupt his plans.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Luar had not played _ulata_ in some time, but he'd learned it was a popular past-time board the ship, and that it was common to socialize while casually observing the game. The blue-eyed female was in the seats – her name was Elya, he'd discovered, during a brief conversation the cycle previously. They'd passed each other in the hallway and she took no effort to conceal her interest in him.

“Do you play?” he asked her now, rolling his shoulders to better emphasize his already generously muscled pectorals, free of any armor or covering.

“Generally I only care to watch.” She was not in heat but it was coming on now – Luar could scent it, that uptick in her natural pheromones, stirring his more primal instincts.

“I am happy to oblige you, then,” came a haughty voice – another male was striding up, ignoring Luar as completely as if he'd been cloaked.

“Interrupting a conversation is rude,” Luar said, very amiably.

The male deigned to look at him. Hard yellow eyes, sharp tapping tusks, elaborately cuffed and beaded tress.

“Sniff around Elya if you wish, newcomer, but keep it at a distance,” he said, forgoing any attempt at courtesy. “She is spoken for this next heat cycle.”

“I made you no promises, Tartuq,” she cut in, annoyed, “And even if I had I could break them in an instant if I wished.”

“But of course,” Tartuq said, demeanor switching to solicitous obeisance. “My yearning for you overrode my manners. Grant me forgiveness?”

“If you prove yourself impressive enough.” Elya's pale eyes shifted to Luar, sparking with the prospect of such entertainment. “And the same for you, Luar-thwei.”

Luar felt his competitive spirit awaken from where it had lain dormant during his period of monogamy.

“I will send my room number to your comm,” he informed her. “For when _he_ loses.”

There was a ripple of mirth through the spectators present. Tartuq scowled and strolled off to the center of the court.

Though it had been a time since Luar played, his muscle memory swiftly recalled the movements, his response time increasing the longer he was on the court. Tartuq, tall and sinewy, was a decent player, but his selfishness with the ball was a detriment to his team's cohesion. He also seemed distracted by Luar's mere presence, and missed several passes because of it.

“Luar-thwei,” Tartuq sneered as Luar blocked his shot, as if the name tasted unpleasant. “'Blood Moon.' Pah.”

Luar did not react to his contempt, but promptly intercepted the ball and scored.

He didn't realize right away when Tartuq abandoned the game, but after another point and an assist to a teammate he spotted the other yautja not on the court, but back at Elya's side. His face was not visible from this angle, but hers was, and she appeared fully invested in whatever flattery he was weaving for her.

Possessive indignation speared through him – but the ball was coming his way. He caught it in the crook of his arm and lobbed it to someone closer to the hoop.

“Is he bothering you?” Luar asked sunnily as he approached Elya.

“She did not ask for your input or conversation,” Tartuq gritted out.

“If it was unwanted she would say so.”

Elya leaned forward on the bench, riveted by the confrontation. Those fixed blue eyes sent a fresh rush of adrenaline through Luar's veins. He desired her physically but he also desired his rival's defeat, the glory of the win, of both putting him in his place and unambiguously winning her approval.

He'd already seen on the court how prone Tartuq was to distraction and so Luar shifted his weight to one side, drawing attention that way, as if he meant to slide between Tartuq and Elya – and when Tartuq reached to shove him away in a lightning-fast jerk Luar jabbed his elbow into his mouth. The quills on his elbow raked the thin skin between upper and lower mandibles and Tartuq hissed, outraged, specks of green welling up on his cheek.

“You set on me without clear declaration of a fight.”

Luar squared up, feet planted, blood singing. “Then I'm giving you one now.”

Tartuq bristled, hissed again, and launched himself at Luar.

He was denser than he looked, Luar had to admit to himself, and he looked very dense. They crashed to the hard-packed dirt court in a cloud of dust and Tartuq delivered two blows one after the other to Luar's windpipe – the first Luar blocked, the second partly connected, not enough to choke him but enough to make him sputter.

He drove his heel spikes into Tartuq's calves and earned a howl of pain and anger, and he used that moment to buck up, flinging Tartuq off him. Tartuq rallied quickly, smashing his crest into Luar's; they grappled, bruising and battering, claws scraping arms and shoulders. Luar took a quick step back and pivoted on his other foot to shift Tartuq's momentum to one side, shoving his beaded head down and connecting his fist with his nape where the tresses parted.

Tartuq buckled, only just, but it was enough for Luar to slam him face first into the ground and straddle his back, clobbering his head and neck to the tune of the hissing and hollering of the audience.

“ _H'chak,_ ” came Tartuq's muffled and resentful snarl at last. “I yield.”

Luar opened his fist, resisting the urge to get one last blow in, and rose up off his knees. He took a deep breath, tasting dust in it. His brow stung where Tartuq had headbutted him... it was probably split. But the discomfort was negligible.

He deliberately stepped over Tartuq's panting body and strode back to the benches, chin up and a certain assurance to his steps. At some point Elya had risen, as had almost everyone present, to better watch the fight, and she stood now with her arms crossed and hips canted to one side. While winning a challenge in these circumstances almost guaranteed consent, it still obligated her to nothing – she had to say so –

“I have never found this sport quite as lively as I have today,” she remarked, fixing him with a sultry and half-lidded stare. “Though I suspect I've seen all I need to.”

Luar put his hands on his hips, still a little out of breath. “I am glad my... performance pleased you.”

“Oh? Your performance?” Her tusks clicked in a thoughtful smile. “Well, we will see about that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Elya's quarters were spacious, like his in layout but twice the floor space, though Luar had little time to take in his surroundings before she was tugging at his belt, one arm around his neck and her tongue lashing at his. Lust unfurled in his core, overwhelming need – she palmed at his swelling sheath and he purred, cock springing into her hand. She laughed with lascivious delight.

“You think you can take me on as you did Tartuq?” she challenged, backing away from him toward her expansive bed. Her footsteps were slow, the movement of her hips sensuous as she unwrapped her own skirt. She was near in height to him, her body supple and sturdy. He would have to work for it.

He liked it that way.

“I do not think it,” Luar replied. “I know it.”

And with a growl he sprang at her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Atal,” T'kicta trilled, resting his arm against the _kehrite_ wall next to the female's head. “I shall never tire of watching such fine form.”

The brown-spotted yautja snorted at the compliment as she discarded her training armor, but did not directly rebuff him. That was good. He had been pursuing Atal for some time now, and though it was known she was choosy, that was also good – what better honor to be accepted by one who selected only the best? She was not in heat now, but that was no matter. They could still mate for pleasure, and then when her heat did come, perhaps she would remember him.

It was also known that she shared a living space with four sisters, and he'd concluded that a private room – like the one he very conveniently had available – would be welcomed by one so independent-natured as Atal.

“You have trained as hard as always this morning,” he remarked. “I imagine a reprieve in private chambers would prove restful.”

“I imagine it would,” she replied, sliding a battered staff back into its slot. She was not so tall as him, but stockier, and T'kicta had a mind to see how those powerful curves felt beneath him. “Unfortunately for both of us, such a thing is not yet within reach.”

T'kicta made a modest and non-committal noise, and as intended, it piqued her interest. She set her hands on her hips.

“Speak plainly,” she demanded, tawny eyes narrowing in curiosity. T'kicta felt a surge of satisfaction.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Luar had been right; she did make him work for it.

As he lay spent and breathless amid Elya's bed-furs he slid his arms around her middle, settling on his side and pulling her against the curve of his body. She smelled nice, the both of their mating musks blending together, heady and warm. But she startled at his presumption, not yielding to his embrace but instead slipping free.

“I am going to wash,” she said, stretching and rising to stand nude next to the bed. There were pinpricks of blood on her thighs where he'd restrained her. “You may wait to use the shower after me, if you wish.”

She was already moving away, with the languorous gait of the well-satisfied, and Luar sat slowly upright. “No, I'll – I'll go.”

She sent a casual chirrup of acknowledgment over her shoulder as she disappeared into her washroom.

Luar rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed. His muscles were pleasantly tired, and he would've liked to rest more, and enjoy her company... but he sought out his scattered garments, shaking the post-sex fog from his brain –

“Luar-thwei?” came Elya's muffled voice from the washroom. His hands paused over his sandal; a smile touched his face. So she sought a second round already, did she?

“Yes?”

“Please initiate the lock on the access panel as you leave.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

T'kicta attempted to appear nonchalant as he entered Solar's chambers ahead of Atal. While sexual inexperience in a male was not a deterrent to females, ignorance in any arena was not something he generally cared to own up to.

“Whose rooms are these?” Atal questioned, focusing straight away on the admittedly stunning trophy wall opposite the door.

“A cousin of mine who has been sadly lost to monogamy.” T'kicta's own trophy collection was little more than a humble shelf, though he planned to rectify that sooner rather than later.

“You bring me to the empty chamber of an elite warrior in hopes of using it for seduction?” Her eyes glinted, but not with contempt. “How bold.”

“'Fortune smiles on the fearless,'” T'kicta riposted, quoting an ancient and long-gone philosopher whose name escaped him. He leaned against the doorway up into the sleeping chamber, crossing his arms over his chest. “Or so they say.”

Her attention roamed over the bed. He had replaced the furs with clean ones – he'd decided it would be in poor taste to bring a partner to a bed smelling of another couple – and shut the cat in the washroom so it could not disturb them. There was a sway to her walk as she came up the steps to him, and he found himself glued to the flick of her loincloth's tasseled fringe.

“You amuse me,” she chuckled throatily. “I admire a male who dares to take a risk.”

“Then you are in luck,” T'kicta grinned. “For I have been told I am both audacious and very amusing.”

No sooner had the last word left his mouth when he was knocked over backwards onto the floor, Atal straddling his torso with a hiss of glee. A jolt of triumph and desire shot through him and he seized her waist, an action which earned him a rebuking slap across the jaw.

“Did I say you could touch me?” she growled, pushing her hips into his abdomen. T'kicta's surprise at the physical reprimand mingled with flood of lust. “Put not a single claw on me until I permit it. One would think you have never mated before.”

T'kicta's hands curled at his sides, and he opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Atal paused, looking hard at him. He felt a heady rush of combined self-consciousness and excitement as she processed what his lack of reply meant.

“Oh,” she exclaimed in sudden satisfaction. “So you haven't!?” Her smile went a little feral, hands raking across his chest. “How delicious...”

 

 

* * *

 

 

T'kicta had not been tired when he brought Atal to this room but now, as he collapsed face-first on the spacious bed, he thought he could sleep for an entire span. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel now, if anything. His body felt good, if sore, but he was drained. Less physically, more psychologically. He had not predicted that.

The furs were plush beneath him, their scent clean and dry. He didn't even need to have changed them. They never made it that far.

Drowsily he rolled onto his back, so the scratches on his chest would not press uncomfortably into the bed. Females were assertive, everyone knew that, but were all so... aggressive? And did other males like it? He hadn't expected that as Atal rode him he'd have to keep reminding himself of his luck in earning her favor, and how striking her form was, and how snug and warm she felt around his cock. He hadn't had to do much – she hadn't wanted that – and after she'd reached her climax his own was near-happenstance, a last minute side effect before she'd rolled off him in a contented heap.

Navel-gazing wasn't T'kicta's strong suit. These thoughts were all vague, and traveled in loose quiet circles with no conclusion, and he was happy to leave them behind and drift instead into the comfortable cocoon of sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He awoke feeling not at all rested and with an intolerable headache. He sat upright and immediately struggled to take in a full breath, sputtering on the exhale and rubbing gritty eyes with the back of one hand. He felt uncomfortable all over – that wasn't related to sex, was it? No, that was stupid.

At the foot of the bed was the cat, sitting on its haunches with its front feet together, looking at him through half-closed eyes. Black hairs on the bed-fur indicated the animal had been laying near him while he slept. Atal had used the washroom before she left – she must have let it out. T'kicta looked right back at the cat, suspicious of it having crept so close to him while he was unawares.

It stretched and padded up between his bent knees, sniffing the air before rubbing itself on him again. As it did there was an alarming tickle in the back of T'kicta's throat, and before he could process it he sneezed. The cat jumped, and so did he, tresses smacking together as he shook his head uncertainly. He rested his arms on his knees, staring in growing suspicion at the creature – and when it pushed its head onto his thigh he sneezed again, his features wrinkling.

“ _Pauk!”_ he swore. He had encountered venomous beasts before. Usually not so small and innocent in appearance, but first impressions could clearly be deceptive! He spied no anatomical mechanism on the cat for releasing such vile fumes but there must be one, to affect him so. The mouth, or the nose. Spitting at him while he slumbered. Treacherous thing!

In one swift move he rolled off the bed, bouncing lightly away. Shame on Kate for allowing such an animal onto the ship. Surely she must have known of its hidden properties?

He should kill it. He could break its neck with no more difficulty than snapping a twig... though perhaps it would be better to touch it as little as possible. He reached for the knife at his calf before remembering he was unarmed, and in fact bare save for his haphazardly tied-on loincloth, and without taking his eye off the cat he bent to dig through the pile of hastily discarded armor for the blade.

Perhaps it was better he had to search for it because doing so forced him to think while he did, which made him acknowledge that a prompt execution would likely upset Kate which would in turn displease Solar and T'kicta would not, in fact, be hailed as a hero.

He let out a warning rattle and pointed the knife at the animal in silent threat, and it had the nerve to squeak at him again.

“I want no tricks from you,” he clicked, though he knew perfectly well it could not understand. “If you so much as open your mouth in my direction I will slit your throat and make a belt from your hide. And all the females will say 'what an unusual fur,'” he continued as he began to gather his things. “And I will say 'yes indeed, I dispatched the sly creature with ease,' and then I will have both females _and_ a beautiful belt. So perhaps you should make an attack on me,” he finished, more to himself than the cat.

Though as he made a hasty retreat to the other room he was glad it didn't.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There was something comical to Kate about asking a seven foot tall alien killer to take care of her cat. But though pets weren't common for yautja, and though T'kicta had his flaws, he wasn't a dunce and could manage to give Iyona food and water a handful of times while she and Solar were away.

What she did not anticipate, however, was to return and find T'kicta perched on the couch like a large hawk, glowering at her and Solar as they entered the room.

“Your pet is a devil,” he coughed darkly, leaping to his feet as the door swished shut.

Kate set her bag on the table as the door and blinked up at him as he approached. “I – what?”

“It has been poisoning me slowly in your absence. I expected your deepest gratitude for not killing it. Though I suggest you do so without delay.”

“Killing it!? Jesus,” she muttered, bending to scoop up Iyona as she came running. T'kicta sidled away as she passed.

Solar's eyes flicked back and forth between them. “An explanation, please, cousin?”

At that moment T'kicta let loose with a stifled sneeze. Kate didn't know yautja could sneeze and she startled at the high burst of air. He looked embarrassed, then disdainful, zeroing in on the bundle of fur in Kate's arms. “It is releasing some form of toxin that impairs my respiratory system. It also likewise affects my eyes and is giving me a lethal headache.”

Yautja didn't have tear ducts and there was only minimal white to their eyes, so it was difficult for Kate to detect anything different about T'kicta, but as she looked closer his the skin around his eyes did seem swollen and his expression was one of utter misery.

“Kate, is this true?” Solar pressed. “Does this animal release dangerous toxins – ”

“Do yautja have allergies?” she interrupted.

Solar and T'kicta looked at each other. The former furrowed his brow. The latter sniffed, and rubbed one eye with the heel of his hand.

“It's when an individual's immune system reacts badly to something in the environment that's otherwise harmless,” she explained as best she could in blended English and yautja, with Solar translating when necessary for T'kicta, who knew no English at all. “Food, or medication, or a plant or animal...? No?”

Both yautja were at a loss. Despite their shared blood they didn't resemble each other much, but now their expressions of skeptical bemusement were all but identical.

“The cat isn't trying to hurt you,” Kate clarified. “She's not doing anything at all. Your body just thinks it is. Lots of humans are allergic to cats.”

Solar processed this new information, while T'kicta looked irritated. “That makes no sense at all,” he retorted. “For one, there would be no reason to react to something that is not dangerous, and in addition, I am not _ooman_.”

“But since you've never encountered a cat before, your body isn't used to whatever it is about cats that provokes reactions.”

“I have been to these rooms many times and had no such response.”

“That was only for short periods. But you've been here for a couple cycles now, enough time to get fur and dander all over you.”

T'kicta squinted cynically. “Why has my cousin not reacted similarly?”

“I don't know. I assume the same reason I'm not allergic to cats while other humans are.”

“I advise you to be rid of it,” T'kicta said to Solar, rubbing his eyes once more before crossing his arms. Despite his distrustful exterior, T'kicta really did look wretched, and she couldn't blame him for his doubts – but she wouldn't let him push Solar into getting rid of Iyona, either.

“The reaction won't hurt you,” she reasoned. “If you were seriously allergic, it would have already. It's uncomfortable but that's all.”

T'kicta made a noise of disbelief and disgust. Then he sneezed again, and though the airy sound from such a large being was unexpectedly cute, Kate knew it would be unwise to say so.

“Cousin, I am sorry for your troubles but you may not kill this animal,” Solar proclaimed.

“Just don't touch her,” Kate encouraged.

T'kicta only snorted. Beneath his aggravation he actually looked betrayed, as if the cat personally had it out for him. “I will take my leave and cleanse myself thoroughly,” he declared, striding between them toward the door.

“That's actually a good idea,” Kate offered helpfully. “Get rid of all the – the allergens – thank you for feeding her,” she called out, and the door slid closed on T'kicta's retreating back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

While Luar's quarters had a private shower, the space was small, and he took to the communal bathhouse with its soaking pools. He had no wish to be cramped, and the hot water would ease the ache in his muscles. Pools like this were less common on Yautja Prime, but on long distance spacefaring ships they were quite popular, in order to adequately hydrate the skin. While the climate system did keep the recycled air humid, the percentage wasn't as high as was preferable, as too much moisture would interfere with the ship's equipment.

Luar had this particular pool to himself and he spread his arms on the edge, the orange reflection of the flame-filled braziers rippling in the pool's surface. Elya had left a pair of deep gouges on his forearm and the hot water had stimulated blood flow again, beads of green welling up along the parallel lines.

He let his head tip back against the edge, eyes drifting shut. A couple of his longest tress tendrils floated in the water. He hadn't minded her aggression – if anything he relished it, the drawing of blood only inflaming him – but now the wounds felt no more than an irritation, stinging whenever he moved. She'd also scratched him on his side. Although, mating marks were fairly distinguishable from any other kind of injuries so undoubtedly other females would see, and grow curious that he could inspire such passion –

A silhouette blocked out the braziers' glow, and on instinct his eyes cracked open, muscles tightening; but it was only T'kicta, tilting his head at him in friendly concern.

“Why are _you_ here?”

So deep in his musings was Luar that he hadn't even heard the younger yautja approaching. Then again, T'kicta did move quite lightly. “Should I not be?”

“You have your own washroom.”

“Only a shower.”

T'kicta deposited his kilt on a bench and submerged himself nude into the pool, shaking water from his short tress as he broke the surface again. In the dim light his eyes were lively and luminous.

“I heard about what happened at the court,” he began with no preamble, smirking with satisfaction. “I only wish I had been there to see it! Tartuq may be a fine warrior but when it comes to interpersonal relations he's about as cheerful as a dung heap. I do hope you completely pulverized him.”

It was generally ungracious to brag but T'kicta's enthusiasm was infectious, and Luar couldn't stop the twitch of his own mandibles. “One could say that.”

T'kicta's smirk widened.

“You have been busy also, it seems,” Luar observed slyly. “You smell like sex.”

“With good reason.” T'kicta let his muscles slacken, sinking under the surface just enough to blow idle bubbles. The water tasted sharp and coppery, a bit slippery on his tongue due to the added oils. “Even in my inexperience she was enamored of me enough to keep me hours and hours in her thrall – ”

“Your 'inexperience'?" Luar butted in. "Have you not mated before today?”

T'kicta found the underwater seating ledge and settled onto it, slouching lazily so the water lapped at his shoulders. “A state I have remedied.”

“Impressive, then, that you brought her to pleasure your first time!”

“Yes – well, no, I – she did that herself.” T'kicta tipped his head away, examining the low arched ceiling and elegant columns as if they held great interest.

Luar considered, then nodded wisely, seeking no further explanation. “I know that type.”

“That 'type?'” T'kicta ventured casually.

Luar raised a brow, his eyes lighting with amusement. “The type that uses your prick like it's disembodied and not even remotely attached to you.”

T'kicta couldn't hold back his whoop of hilarity. It was funnier now, knowing he wasn't alone in this sort of encounter, and while Luar said no more T'kicta could tell by his expression he was recalling his own similar incidents.

“Females cannot all be like that, surely?” he prompted.

“They aren't a monolithic entity any more than we are,” Luar shrugged. “Some are rough in their mating preferences, some are practical, some enjoy mutual affection... others want to do all the work themselves and send you on your way before your seed is even cold on the furs.”

T'kicta stared, then laughed again. “I detect some bitterness, Luar! I do believe you're speaking from experience.”

“I will say that I appreciate an assertive partner,” Luar said, with a private sort of smile. "But not to act as a mere tool to slake her heat. I know for many males that is pleasure enough, and it was for me in the past, but...” He trailed off, his usual self-assurance faltering into unexpected vulnerability.

T'kicta averted his gaze, instead watching the steam hovering on the water's surface. Luar was an elite warrior, seasoned and skilled and effortlessly charming. His coloring was striking, his manner engaging; he had not seen Luar's trophy wall but that was undoubtedly impressive, too. Females must be beating down his door wanting him to put a pup in them. And now to discover it meant little to him?

“Send these eager females my way, then, if you tire of them so much,” he chuffed, pushing down his discomfort. What privilege, to be chosen to sire offspring! What matter the mode of conception?

“Who said I tire?” Luar joked back, splashing T'kicta to break the odd mood. “No, indeed, I am more motivated than ever to sample them in all their variety and find the one best suited – ”

“Ah, I knew you could not be so humble as you appeared,” T'kicta snorted. “You think them _all_ accessible to you? Inevitably arrogance must rear its head!”

“I will take that as a compliment.” Water droplets hung from the quills dusting Luar's chest as he puffed himself out, exaggerated for humor. “Clearly you think I have much worth being arrogant about.”

“Nobody challenges a high status competitor for a female on – what is it, your sixth cycle aboard? Seventh?”

“I did not plan it! An opportunity presented itself. Do not be jealous,” Luar teased. T'kicta scoffed at the notion that he would ever experience such a thing. “You will have chance enough to entice more females as you increase in rank, and especially now that you have pleased one. They tend to discuss that information among themselves. Not unlike we are doing now.”

“Pleased she was,” T'kicta reiterated. “The things she said could not be repeated in polite company. Never have I heard such curses and oaths strung together in that way, and she told me my prick was as large as – ”

“Grant me a reprieve from the details, T'kicta.”

“No, it really was a clever simile, she could be a poet – ”

“Nobody wants to read poetry about what's in your sheath – ”

Now it was T'kicta's turn to splash Luar, smacking the water with the heel of his hand to send a silencing spray into his face. “ _You_ haven't seen it.”

Luar went still, blinked the water from his eyes, and without a word seized him; the banter devolved immediately into a scuffle, water churning and wet tress slapping skin. Under the surface Luar grappled to get the upper hand and T'kicta couldn't hold back his yelp, kicking hard at his foe. Luar released him, uncertain, but after a beat a glint appeared in his eye. “Are you ticklish?”

“No, you merely startled me.” Most yautja had no such reflex. “I came to the bathhouse for relaxation, not assault.”

Luar did not seem fooled. The way T'kicta was backing cagily away to the other side of the pool was no doubt unconvincing.

“Your cousin is too principled to lie, but you?” Luar's grinning fangs gleamed in the dim light. “You're just bad at it.”

He made as if to lunge again, and T'kicta preemptively pushed off the bottom to evade him, but their tussle was interrupted by a loud harrumph from the pool next to them.

“Take that to the sparring mat,” barked a gray-tressed and disapproving yautja.

“Our pardon, elder,” T'kicta said, managing to sound appropriately chastised despite his barely restrained laughter.

He and Luar sank back into the water again on opposite sides of the pool. The braziers crackled in harmony with the lapping of agitated water, casting shadows on the far wall of yautja moving to and from the other baths.

“Let us think positively now,” Luar reasoned, as the water calmed. His gold eyes were conspiratorial. “And imagine that our respective partners are speaking of us to their friends, with splendid reports of our prowess, so that when we next enter the lounge or dining hall or _kehrite_ we will find many interested eyes on us.”

T'kicta had felt somewhat disconcerted after his time with Atal, but Luar's words of assurance buoyed him, and he nodded in endorsement. “May the gods grant us stamina both to win them, and to please them when we do.”

“There isn't a god for that, T'kicta.”

T'kicta shrugged, and settled his head as comfortably on the pool's hard edge as if it were a pillow. “There should be.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 


End file.
